The Curious Tale of Harry Potter
by raposa
Summary: Everybody thought Harry's adventures would end after the defeat of Voldemort. Curiously, this was not the case. After an unfortunate incident with a magical screwdriver Harry finds himself in 1989, and he has to find his way back one day at a time… WIP
1. Prologue

**Title: **The Curious Tale of Harry Potter

**Author: **Raposa

**Rating: **T, rating might go up for later chapters.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter, neither do I own a multifunctional screwdriver (either sonic or magical).

**Summary:** Everybody thought Harry's adventures would end after the defeat of Voldemort. Curiously, this was not the case. After an unfortunate incident with a magical screwdriver Harry finds himself in 1989, and he has to find his way back one day at a time…

**Spoilers:** Contains spoilers for all seven books.

**Notes: **When the story progresses it will become less similar to the original.

**_Prologue_**

_"Time goes, you say? Ah, no! Alas, time stays, we go." Henry Austin Dobson_

~o~

Of all the magical objects in the world, you would have got to have Harry Potter's luck get into an incident with a magical screwdriver.

Wizards and Witches generally learn to expect the unexpected, causing incidents with magical books, jars, mugs, carpets (either flying or immobile), dices, and socks to be considered unsurprising.

Screwdrivers, having originated in the Muggle world as recently as the 18th century, are but rarely found in traditional Wizarding households; Wizards have perfected their own methods for carpentry and remodelling centuries before. Those Wizards and Witches that did have a screwdriver were mostly Muggle-born and considered the tool plenty useful on its own, repressing the impulse to enchant it.

Considering all this, it was a curious incident that not only there was a screwdriver enchanted with dangerous experimental magic, but also that Harry Potter was the one to accidentally misuse it. Although it would be Harry who would get in such a situation; he and Lady Fortuna did always have a temperamental relation.

~o~

Harry should have been warned of the screwdriver's dangers by the place where he bought it; nothing in Knockturn Alley was both legal and harmless. Since an enchanted screwdriver was only illegal when it was brought into contact with Muggles (as per regulation of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office), alarm bells should start to ring the enchantments on the artefact.

However, after some inspection Harry had declared the screwdriver "dead useful" because of its many useful functions; not only could the screwdriver be used for screwing and unscrewing screws, it could also be used to open and close locks, to wind and unwind balls of yarn, to roll a cigarette, to flip a coin, and many other things which include some rotating movement.

Apparently it could also wind the fabric of time; while trying to put up some shelves in his renovated house in Godric's Hollow, Harry accidentally switched on some unknown function on the screwdriver that caused Harry's lifeline to reconnect with his life at the age of eight.

Only Harry's soul was affected however, and after some restless drifting it found its way to the body it had already inhabited once. At least, this was what Harry suspected; he had lost the screwdriver in 1999, while his soul was now present in 1989, making it quite difficult to investigate the circumstances that brought him there.

All the problems didn't end there, however, since Harry's magical capability was greatly reduced; magical proficiency was linked to the soul, and to the body as well, and a change in either influences the magical capability of a Wizard or Witch.

~o~

The cupboard where Harry found himself was larger than he remembered. He was still quite small and skinny at the age of nine; he wasn't even taller than the width of the cupboard yet.

Besides himself, all of his possessions could be found in the cupboard as well: two piles of oversized clothes, in one pile they were in a relatively good condition and in the other pile they were rather threadbare; a pair of shoes, quite tattered; a small mattress, still large enough for Harry, but thin and lumpy; a small cushion and a thin blanket, old but still warm and comfortable; some books, his favourite of these books had been the old copy of Treasure Island that originally had belonged to Dudley; a couple of toys, either broken or boring enough that Dudley would forget about them; an alarm clock he had stolen from his cousin, enabling him to wake up on time to do his chores; and, last but not least, some pencil stubs and a stack of barely used paper.

This was everything Harry Potter owned in 1989 (except for the unreachable Galleons and artefacts in his vault in Gringotts Wizarding Bank of course), and was everything he could safely use to figure out what he would do, how he would get back to remodelling his house in Godric's Hollow (which he didn't own yet, because it was held in trust by Albus Dumbledore until Dumbledore died or Harry came of age).

"It's all bloody useless," Harry muttered. He thought of making his way back to Knockturn Alley to buy the screwdriver again (if it was already there), but quickly discarded the idea as useless; he still remembered Hermione's explanation on time travelling devices: "legally time travelling devices can only travel to the past, since the incident with Almerick the Foolish in the 17th century; he would have saved an entire village from the terror of a chichevache, a monster that preys on virtuous women, if he hadn't travelled ten years into the future, causing the village population to be reduced to many men sharing a handful of women without virtue. Nowadays the punishment for travelling to the future ranges from imprisonment in Azkaban to the Dementor's Kiss."

Also, he could not leave in good conscience when there was a world that needed to be saved… again. Now seemed a good moment to speculate what would happen if he changed things from the past (in the future).

"Boy! It's time to prepare breakfast," Aunt Petunia shouted, interrupting Harry's thoughts. He would have to get used to doing chores again, fighting dark Wizards for years had left Harry's priorities quite far from household chores. "Yes, Aunt. I'm coming," Harry responded. Opening the cupboard he noticed it hadn't been locked, apparently they hadn't started with that yet.

Harry hadn't actively remembered anything from his non-magical time with the Dursleys, mostly because nothing was worth remembering compared the magical moments he'd had afterwards in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Already, things were not quite how he remembered them to be, such as the size of the cupboard and its unlocked state, and did Petunia Dursley just smile at him?


	2. The Time Was Neither Wrong Nor Right

**Disclaimer:**I do not own Harry Potter.

**Warning: **This chapter contains mild swearing.

**Note:** I have no idea if Little Whinging would be large enough to have its own train station, but I needed a public location, and I like train stations.

_**Chapter 1**_

_The Time Was Neither Wrong Nor Right_

~o~

It had been three months since Harry had returned to 1989. Three months of relearning to prepare breakfast, to avoid Dudley and Vernon Dursley, to act like a nine year old, to stop reaching for the wand that wasn't strapped to his leg, to weed the gardens, and to go to primary school like an ordinary Muggle child, wondering in the back of his mind if all his memories were just the fanciful dreams of a neglected child.

Harry supposed that grabbing your wand was a nice reflex in wartime, but the reflex was quite useless without a wand and when the danger was being smacked or shoved; it would even make him lose his balance faster when he was pushed. Yes, if there was one certainty in his life, then it must be that the dangerous situations in which he had found himself in the Wizarding world were as different from the dangers in the Muggle world as the difference between the Wizarding and Muggle world in general.

Harry amused himself with the irony that when he came to the Wizarding world eight years ago he could dodge most punches on reflex, while proud Pureblood Wizards like Draco Malfoy preferred not to engage in anything as plebeian as fistfights (when they could control their tempers) and mostly just hexed or cursed their opponents. Therefore, Harry had mostly dodged friendly punches from exuberant housemates, and fumbled for his wand in fights with his rivals.

One of the moments where Harry was regularly threatened with a smack was during the preparation of breakfast. Dudley threatened to pummel Harry if his bacon was burned (and often promptly acted on his threats, whether the bacon was burned or not didn't seem to influence this), and Uncle Vernon would have Harry skip breakfast if he was kept waiting. After a few days without his piece of toast with a scrambled egg and a slice of bacon, Harry remembered all the tricks of making breakfast exactly the way his obese family members wanted it.

Dudley was at this age already quite similar to a baby whale, a baby killer whale to be precise, because Dudley was certainly a predator, the enormous boy preferred to go Harry Hunting in his spare time after all. When the weather was nice, Harry and Dudley were expected to stay outside and out of Aunt Petunia's hair, resulting in Dudley and Piers Polkiss ganging up on him on the playground.

Hiding in shops nearby didn't work on those occasions, as the boys would cause so much trouble that all of them, including Harry, were kicked out. Hiding at the train station, however, did seem to work. Enough people are loitering at the train station during the day that a boy milling around escaped the notice of nearly everybody, and those that did notice Harry hanging around were satisfied with his explanation of being overly fond of trains. Perhaps even more important was that there were several candy and toy shops near the station. These shops provided enough distraction for Dudley and Piers when they passed them that Harry could disappear from their sight.

Avoiding Uncle Vernon was proving to be a greater challenge. The man never failed to turn up when Harry was doing his chores in the weekends (he didn't have to weed the garden or clean the house on schooldays, on those days he just made breakfast and cleaned the dishes). Sometimes, Uncle Vernon would simply shove or trip Harry, messing up whatever he had already cleaned, while at other times Vernon would closely inspect what Harry was doing. Whenever Uncle Vernon 'inspected' him when Harry was doing his chores, Vernon would find fault with whatever Harry had done, declaring Harry needed to do another chore to make up for it. This way, Harry had to do all the chores that Petunia assigned to Dudley before Dudley would get around to doing them.

After a while, Aunt Petunia simply stopped assigning chores to Dudley, and told Harry to do them all. "Boy! From now on you'll have to do both your chores and Dudley's chores in the weekend, because Dinky Duddydums is busy enough as it is."

Surprisingly enough, this decreased the amount of interference with his chores from his Uncle Vernon; it almost seemed if Aunt Petunia had been kind to him. However, this increased the amount of time that Dudley spent bothering Harry while he did his chores, since Dudley wasn't busy with avoiding his own chores anymore.

Uncle Vernon's close inspection of every chore Harry did, did cause a rapid increase in Harry's proficiency in it. Harry found out that he was actually quite skilled in weeding the garden, the years he had spent learning Herbology had left him with a keen sense to avoid thorns and to avoid to damage to plants when removing them from the ground (the fear of retaliation from the more dangerous magical plants had been instilled into him); this made weeding the garden feel almost nostalgic, but only when the weather was pleasant.

Primary school was perhaps the greatest surprise that Harry encountered. Most subjects were quite challenging for him, because he neither needed nor practiced them in the Wizarding world.

In History nothing was mentioned about the Goblin Rebellion, instead they were discussing the Industrial Revolution, which had passed by (almost) completely unnoticed in the Wizarding world.

The places discussed in Geography didn't seem very relevant; only a few Wizarding communities coincided with large Muggle cities, as most Witches and Wizards preferred the space to perform whatever magic they liked without having to bother with Muggles nearby.

In Science they learned the rules which governed Muggle life, such as gravity, and were defied by Witches and Wizards on a regular basis.

Mathematics, which he vaguely remembered to be quite logical, now seemed to elude him. He could only manage additions and subtractions, but fractions and multiplications were beyond his reach. The only thing similar to Mathematics in the Wizarding world was Arithmancy after all, and Harry had never bothered to study it.

One day after class his teacher, Miss Hitchens, asked him if everything was alright with him. "Your grades have dropped in the past months," she explained her concern to him. "If this continues, you might have to repeat the year." "I'm sorry Miss," Harry dropped his shoulders in disappointment. "Are you going to tell my Aunt and Uncle?" His voice was nearly as soft as a whisper. "If you promise to put some extra effort into it, I'm sure they don't need to know," Miss Hitchens said with a reassuring smile. "On a side note, I think I should tell your Aunt Petunia the next time I see her that I'm very pleased with the progress you've made with English!"

This interaction left Harry's pride quite battered. After all, being nineteen years old he had expected that he would be able to handle the classes aimed at nine year olds! Nevertheless, eight years of living (almost) completely in the Wizarding world and immerged in a war had left him out of touch with his Muggle upbringings. Also, Harry wasn't quite sure how his grades (either low or high) would affect his interaction with his (so called) family, which was his main concern while he had no choice but to live with them. If Miss Hitchens had ever mentioned anything about his grades to Aunt Petunia, Harry never noticed.

It was unfortunate that Harry was out of touch with his magic as well. Ever since he had been in the eighties he had been unable to perform any kind of magic, even accidental magic didn't save his hair from Aunt Petunia when she shaved it. Dudley and some other boys from his class called him 'bollock-head' for weeks before they tired of it (and the punishment they received when they were caught by Miss Hitchens). Harry supposed (hoped) that the reason for his lack of accidental magic was connected to a better control over his emotions; ever since the Horcrux was removed from his soul, Harry was less overwhelmed by his anger and fear.

When Harry met Dedalus Diggle while doing some shopping for Aunt Petunia in the grocery store, he was reassured that he had not lost his magic completely, and that all his adventures at Hogwarts and beyond were not just something he had made up in his dreams. The silly Wizard greeted him with an enthusiastic bow, and Harry's magic-starved senses prickled from the magical residue on Diggle's transfigured clothes that didn't manage to come across as entirely Muggle. Diggle's purple top hat and tails were as unusual in the daily life of Muggles as his Wizarding robes would be.

"Good morning, sir," Harry politely greeted him. "Good morning, Harry Potter!" Diggle answered excitedly, before rushing off. Yes, Harry thought, magic is definitely real; Harry didn't stop grinning all day, not even when Uncle Vernon tripped him for no apparent reason.

~o~

It was during the summer holidays that the feeling of homesickness almost overwhelmed Harry. His birthday had arrived without a celebration and presents, unless he considered that slice of bacon that Aunt Petunia had left on her plate underneath a serviette to be a present and being dropped of at Mrs. Figg's house on Wisteria Walk, because his family went to an amusement park, the celebration.

Harry tried to interrogate the eccentric old Squib on her life, in the hope of gaining titbits of information on the Wizarding world, but either Mrs. Figg was too well versed in hiding anything magical from Muggles or she hadn't been in contact with Wizards and Witches in such a long time that Harry couldn't pick up any references in their conversation. Even when he had asked her about her family, she made them sound convincingly Muggle: "My brothers and sister are all very scholarly, you see, very accomplished, and they are a bit ashamed of having such a colourless mouse in the family whose greatest achievement is that people trust her enough to leave their children in her care. We prefer to avoid each other's company, it prevents messy situations. And I have my own small family right here with my cute cats, you know, they are excellent company. Now let me show you the latest picture I made of Mr. Tibbles, I must have it around here somewhere…"

After this they spent the rest of the day talking about the cats (alive and deceased) and playing with the cats. Harry managed to enjoy himself with Mr. Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws and Tufty even though Mrs. Figg tried to make the visit as boring as possible; the part-Kneazle cats enraptured the magic-starved boy, and in turn they appreciated that he admired them.  
Back at Number 4, Privet Drive, Harry continued to spend much time in his cupboard. Whenever he wasn't assigned chores and was neither thrown outside to entertain himself in the park, Harry would hide himself in his cupboard and practice his magic until he was too tired to continue, and sometimes, when Uncle Vernon wasn't at home, Harry would pilfer one of the books on the Dursleys' ornamental bookshelves to read it inside his cupboard (although it couldn't actually be considered stealing, because he put the books back when he was finished with them).

When Harry was practicing his magic, his main goal was to focus it. Wands worked as a natural external focus point, amplifying the magic of spells casted with it when a Wizard or a Witch was able to connect properly with the wand. Harry had never learned to focus his magic without a magical conductor; he wasn't even capable of wordlessly casting a spell, which requires more concentration than a shouted spell.

At the end of the summer Harry's ability to focus had noticeably improved: he could lengthen or shorten his hair and nails. These small transfigurations left him nearly exhausted every time he tried them; Harry was capable enough to focus his magic correctly, but he couldn't control it, and drained his own magical reserves every time he tried.

~o~

A few days before the start of the new school year Harry made a discovery in Little Whinging that drastically increased the magic in his life.

Harry had been hanging around the train station again when he started to notice that many Wizards and Witches were milling about in Little Whinging. Harry guessed that the British magical community consisted of perhaps three thousand members, and that it was unlikely to meet one random Witch or Wizard every week in a place with as little magic as Little Whinging. However, Harry had met around three dozen different Wizards and Witches after his encounter with Diggle, raising the possibility that there was something in this Muggle village that attracted Witches and Wizards.

Therefore, the next time that Harry had seen a Witch wandering around near the train station, he decided to follow her. The Witch remained completely oblivious to his presence, and led him straight to a small Wizarding shop, hidden from Muggles with a strong Muggle-Repelling Charm.

The shop was called The Toad in the Top Hat, and looked like an ordinary Muggle shop for people interested in conjuration tricks, displaying top hats with hidden pockets, handkerchiefs, bouquets of flowers, doves, rabbits, and books about conjuring things without magic.

Harry went inside when the Witch finally left, he noticed that the merchandise was distinctly different from the display in the windows: the shop was similar to the junk shop in Diagon Alley, containing al sorts of random items, and most of the trinkets were either broken or had never worked anyway. Harry squeaked with surprise when he saw what was hidden in a corner of the store: it was filled with memorabilia of himself!

"Ah, lad," the shopkeeper approached him. "Are you here for the 'Potterwatch', eh? I've made most of those pictures myself, you know…" Harry slowly turned to face the man who had apparently been stalking him for quite some time. "Dear Merlin! Here I am praising the Harry Potter memorabilia to Harry Potter himself… How surprising!"

"I must confess that the surprise is entirely mutual, sir," Harry finally answered. "Would you please explain a bit more about this, Mr…" Harry hesitated a bit.

"The name is Eamonn Plunkett, second cousin once removed from the famous Quidditch referee Josiah Plunkett. You want to know more about the Potterwatch? It started out as a hobby. You see, I'm a freelance photographer, and when I came across you one day, about 4 years ago now, I thought it would be brilliant to take a few nice pictures of you." "And you sell them, here in your shop?" "Well, at first I wanted to sell them to the Daily Prophet, but apparently you have an important solicitor somewhere, because I couldn't get them published anywhere! Even though many people were extremely excited when I told them I had met you." Harry frowned. "It's not very polite to take all those pictures without asking!" "Ah, but Mr. Potter, the public wants it so badly! How can I refuse them? They come all the way from the outreaches of our country to visit this shop, and perhaps get a glimpse of you in the Muggle wilderness!" The shopkeeper not only increased the volume of his voice in enthusiasm, but the volume of his gestures as well, causing him to topple a pile of the rubbish he sold.

"Wait a minute, doesn't this mean that every Witch and Wizard knows where to find me?" "Of course, we're still a bit uncertain on where you actually live, the wards around the house must be strong, but all your activities in the village are monitored by the adoring crowd!"

Harry paled slightly, he had forgotten how terrifying the 'adoring crowd' could be.

"Now, Mr. Potter, I have just thought of a deal that should be beneficial for the both of us! If you would sign one of these photographs for me, you can pick something from the shop that you would like," the shopkeeper said with a gleam in his eyes.

"My autograph is quite rare, I should require at least three items," Harry countered with a thoughtful look on his face. The shopkeeper chuckled. "Of course, Mr. Potter." "I'll look for things I'd like, if I can find three things I'll sign one photograph for you."

Harry wandered between the piles carefully avoiding to touch anything, in case the items were hexed. Harry was fairly certain that his stalker-shopkeeper wasn't out to kill him, since Harry had been completely unprotected in many of the photo's; if the man had the motive, he could have acted upon it whenever he wanted. That, however, didn't mean that the items in the shop would be safe; if Harry had learned one thing from the incident with the magical screwdriver, then it was that he should be more careful around items with unknown enchantments.

The things that ultimately caught his attention were a Probity Probe, a book (Saucy Tricks for Tricky Sorts), and a Self-Inking Quill. However, at the last moment Harry decided against the Probity Probe, and switched it for a Never-Ending Roll of Parchment. While it was very neat to be able to catch concealment charms and hidden magical objects, his surroundings didn't contain enough magical items to make it actually useful. He had briefly considered getting one of the less damaged wands, and a roll of Spellotape to fix it, but he didn't want to raise suspicion at the Ministry of Magic by performing too many spells, so he quickly discarded the idea.

"I'd like these items, please," Harry said to the shopkeeper. "So, which picture would you like me to sign, Mr. Plunkett?"


End file.
